


i've been around the world and i have seen your love

by ericdire (aarobron)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Smut, but lots of sex, holiday!, literally no angst at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarobron/pseuds/ericdire
Summary: "Yes," Jordan says, amused. He covers Virgil's hand on the arm rest between them with his own and reaches over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. He normally doesn't bother when he's around the lads, but he can't quite resist. "You can plan our holiday - a complete surprise for me. Happy now?""Very," Virgil says, curving his hand around Jordan's neck and stealing a long, drawn out kiss. He only pulls away when Joe flicks the back of his head and grumbles something about there being kids on this flight (and by that, he means Curtis, Harvey and Neco), but thankfully, he doesn't start bickering with his friend. It's the end of the season, and nobody can quite be bothered. "I've already planned it, so I just need to book it when we get in.""Someone was confident," Jordan huffs mildly. He's usually a complete control freak and he's not afraid to admit it, but if there's anything this year has proven, it's that life can turn in an instant, in ways you'd never expect. He’s sick of taking a back seat in his own life - he needs to step outside his comfort zone, and nothing says that more than Virgil flying him out to some random country for a three week holiday.
Relationships: Virgil van Dijk/Jordan Henderson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	i've been around the world and i have seen your love

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! this is a little bit overdue but, well, you know me. i take forever to do anything.
> 
> anyway - i hope you enjoy!
> 
> happy reading! feedback and kudos appreciated xxxxxxxx

“So, have you thought about it?” Virgil asks, slipping further down his seat and resting his head on Jordan’s shoulder. He’s only doing it because it makes his eyes look wider, more innocent.

“Yeah,” Jordan says, and that’s it.

“Yeah?” Virgil asks. He sounds so eager, sitting back up again and beaming brightly. Most of the other lads are dozing or have their heads buried in their phones, but not Virgil. Virgil is bouncing around like a boisterous puppy. "You mean yeah, I can?"

"Yes," Jordan says, amused. He covers Virgil's hand on the arm rest between them with his own and reaches over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. He normally doesn't bother when he's around the lads, but he can't quite resist. "You can plan our holiday - a complete surprise for me. Happy now?"

"Very," Virgil says, curving his hand around Jordan's neck and stealing a long, drawn out kiss. He only pulls away when Joe flicks the back of his head and grumbles something about there being kids on this flight (and by that, he means Curtis, Harvey and Neco), but thankfully, he doesn't start bickering with his friend. It's the end of the season, and nobody can quite be bothered. "I've already planned it, so I just need to book it when we get in."

"Someone was confident," Jordan huffs mildly. He's usually a complete control freak and he's not afraid to admit it, but if there's anything this year has proven, it's that life can turn in an instant, in ways you'd never expect. He’s sick of taking a back seat in his own life - he needs to step outside his comfort zone, and nothing says that more than Virgil flying him out to some random country for a three week holiday.

"With you? Always," Virgil says, batting his eyelashes delicately. Jordan's mouth twists into a wry smile before he can stop it and he presses a kiss to Virgil's forehead as the younger man slouches back down and leans into his side again.

Twenty minutes and they'll be back in Liverpool. That's when their summer finally starts.

.

Jordan rolls over and rests his head on the small of Virgil's back. He's not got a top on because their bedroom is a bit on the wrong side of hot, so the skin is all lovely and smooth and radiating warmth. Jordan rubs his cheek against it, and feels the vibrations from Virgil's chuckle.

"Where are we going, then?" He asks, hand coming up to trace little patterns up and down Virgil's spine. It's nice. He could fall asleep like this, all happy and content. Even his knee has stopped hurting, like it knows it shouldn't be ruining such an amazing moment. 

"Hm," Virgil hums, long and drawn out. He closes the lid of his laptop and places it on the bedside table before crossing his arms on his pillow and resting his cheek on his fist, head angled in a way that must be uncomfortable so he can see at least some of Jordan's body. "Should I tell you? Or should I keep it a secret until the airport?”

“That’s a bit too far,” Jordan sighs, dragging himself up Virgil’s body until he’s draped along the length of his back and his cheek is resting on his shoulder instead. He presses a kiss to the soft skin at the back of his neck, and listens to the happy little hum the younger man lets out. “You’ve got to tell me the country. I need to know what to pack.”

“Fine,” Virgil huffs, but he does sound amused. “First up – a week in Portugal. Then I’m taking you to Switzerland, and we finish up in Austria to meet the lads for preseason. That’s all you’re getting.”

“Good enough for me,” Jordan says, pressing a sloppy kiss to Virgil’s cheek. The younger man grumbles and tries to pull away, but they both know it’s all for show. “I’ve always wanted to go to Switzerland.” 

“I know,” Virgil says, twisting onto his back. Jordan huffs, slips half off him so he’s only got a leg hooked over his thighs and cheek resting on his bicep, but it’s still nice and comfy. He’s willing to sweat to death for a cuddle – not that he’d ever admit it. “That’s why I chose it – for you.”

“Softie,” Jordan says, putting a hand on his cheek and turning his head towards him. Their noses brush for a second, twin bashful smiles on their faces, and then Jordan finally gives it up and indulges his boyfriend with a sweet kiss. “When do we leave?”

“Flight’s at six in the morning,” Virgil whispers, although he’s completely distracted and keeps pressing soft little pecks to Jordan’s mouth. “Ten minutes before we start packing though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jordan agrees, and kisses him properly.

.

Virgil is a morning person, which is awful because Jordan isn’t.

By the time they land at the airport in Portugal, Jordan still feels like he hasn’t consumed enough coffee to be awake yet. His eyes hurt and his body feels heavy and it’s far too sticky for nine in the morning, but Virgil is like a kid hopped up on sugar. He’s kind enough to guide him through the airport with an arm around his shoulders, though.

“I’ll drive,” he says sweetly, twisting the keyring of the rented car around his finger. It’s funny that he thought Jordan would be coherent enough to drive, to be honest. “You can catch up on your beauty sleep.”

Jordan doesn’t reply for a long time, too busy processing his words.

“Do you think I need it?” He asks eventually, peering up at Virgil as he gently helps him into the passenger seat of the car. Virgil looks back blankly, but kisses his cheek and reaches over to fasten his seatbelt. Jordan doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’s fully capable of doing it himself.

“Need what?” Virgil asks, sliding into the driver’s seat and fiddling with the buttons on the dashboard until the soft top of the car rolls down. He’s got his sunglasses on already and he smiles at Jordan’s squinted eyes, reaching over to pull his own out of the chest pocket of his shirt. He’s so gentle when he puts them on his face. 

“Beauty sleep,” Jordan says, and watches Virgil’s cheeks go a bit pale.

“Well – not exactly – I didn’t ––” Virgil stammers, and then flushes bright, burning red when Jordan laughs at him. He punches the older man on the thigh lightly and starts the car. “You’re such a prick.”

“I know, but that’s why you love me,” Jordan says, smiling over at Virgil. He feels so full of love that he’s worried he might burst. Virgil just huffs because he can’t deny it. “How long until we get there?” 

“Not long,” Virgil says, pulling out of the rental car park. He reaches over and tangles their fingers together, squeezing gently, and Jordan just watches him. The curls that have loosened from his bun are fluttering in the breeze and his expression is set with concentration on the road. Jordan loves him so much it hurts. “Thirty minutes. Have a power nap and I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Okay,” Jordan murmurs, and he’s already half asleep. He runs the tip of his index finger through the dusky hairs on Virgil’s arm and drops his hand back to his side. “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Virgil says kindly, and then Jordan is asleep.

.

The villa is insanely beautiful. The sea views stretch out for miles and the pool is huge, and honestly, it’s so big that they could probably fit the whole _team_ here, but still.

“This is amazing,” Jordan breathes, stepping into the living room. The sofa is huge and the television is even bigger, and he already can’t wait to settle down and watch the football later. The whole place is just smooth marble and clean lines, and he loves it.

“There’s no neighbours for miles, apparently,” Virgil says, stepping up next to Jordan and placing a warm hand on the small of his back. “I wanted privacy. I wanted you to feel safe and happy.” 

“I do,” Jordan whispers, leaning into the warmth of Virgil’s body. He looks up at his face and then reaches up to press a kiss to the strong line of his jaw, nuzzling into the skin there for a second. “I do feel happy. Thank you.” 

Virgil smiles and brushes it off, the way he always does when Jordan tries to compliment him. He drops his hand but then tangles their fingers together, abandoning their suitcases and dragging the older man up the stairs.

“Come on, I wanna show you the bedroom,” Virgil says, a wicked smirk on his face. Jordan can only imagine what he’s about to say next. “I think that’s where we’ll be spending most of the week, anyway.”

Jordan shoves at his stomach, but he really can’t deny it.

.

Okay – Virgil might have a point there. 

They’ve barely unpacked. The clothes are all away but the suitcases are discarded to the side, and Virgil is already on his back. He grins up at Jordan and grips his hips even tighter, but it all fades when Jordan grinds his hips down.

“You’re such a bad influence,” Jordan gasps, planting his hand right in the middle of Virgil’s chest. He looks out of the full length windows to his right and smiles. He can’t complain when they’re having sex to that view. “I thought we were going to go into town and buy some food.”

“We will,” Virgil says duly, but then he takes a hold of Jordan’s hip and speeds the pace up. “After I’ve made you come.”

“Need to try harder for that to happen,” Jordan snaps, teeth bared in a grin. Virgil slaps his bum sharply and pouts when Jordan just laughs, flipping them over somehow without pulling out. He’s bearing down now, completely towering over him, and it makes it all that hotter.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, haven’t you,” Virgil says, biting down harshly on Jordan’s throat. He throws his head back and lets out a high pitched whine, fingers scratching against Virgil’s back. Nobody else has ever made him feel like this. _Ever_. “Don’t hear you saying much now.” 

He thrusts again, and this time, the head of his dick nudges against Jordan’s prostate. It makes his dick even harder, aching painfully, and he almost sobs with relief when Virgil wraps those long fingers around it. It feels fucking incredible, and he pulls the younger man in for a bruising kiss when his thumb swipes over the head.

“Fuck,” Jordan says, speaking against Virgil’s mouth. His voice is trembling and his hands are shaking, but Virgil kisses his cheek sweetly and holds him through it. “You’re gonna – you’re gonna be the death of me.” 

Virgil hums, presses kisses along the line of Jordan’s jaw. He starts moving his hand, jacking his fist leisurely. The pace isn’t enough, just not enough, and Jordan is about to complain but then he twists his wrist and runs the blunt edge of his thumbnail over the slit and Jordan is just about gone.

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you,” Virgil whispers, sliding his free arm under Jordan’s shoulders. He holds him close against his chest but doesn’t stop the movement of his hand, burying kiss after kiss in Jordan’s hair. “You can come now, Jordan. Come for me – that’s it.” 

Just hearing the words makes that familiar heat coil tight in Jordan’s belly, and he can feel shocks coming right from the soles of his feet. Virgil’s touch and warmth and smell and everything is surrounding him and it pushes him right to the edge, and then over it until his vision is fading to black at the corners and he comes, with Virgil holding him through it.

He feels Virgil follow not long after, pulsing inside him. He’ll never get over this, how it feels – how he feels _marked_ , like he’s Virgil’s territory. He’d hate it if it was anyone else, but Virgil makes him want to be claimed. He wants everyone to know who he belongs to. 

“God,” Virgil breathes, tangling his fingers in Jordan’s hair. His voice sounds wrecked, and Jordan is so smug because he did that. Nobody else. “You’re amazing, Jord. So fucking good.”

“I know,” Jordan gasps, still trying to catch his breath. His chest is heaving and he tucks his face into Virgil’s neck for a second, just trying to come back down. It’s hard, so hard, especially when he can still feel Virgil’s semi-hard dick still inside him. “The sex might be even better in Portugal.”

“Fresh sea air,” Virgil hums, finally pulling out and rolling to the side. He settles with his head on Jordan’s pillow and an arm over his waist, and sighs, content and happy. “Good for the energy levels, good for the sex drive.”

“Might be a long week,” Jordan agrees. He closes his eyes briefly and then turns to look at Virgil, pressing a chaste kiss to his nose. “Nap and then walk into town for food?”

“It’s like you read my mind,” Virgil says.

.

Apparently, Eric knows this town all too well. As soon as Jordan mentioned where they were, he got all excited and listed off a billion recommendations on places to eat and drink and see. He's already taken them both for dinner, and Jordan had expected it to be awkward considering Eric and Virgil barely know each other, but it was nice. They got on well, and Jordan loved the warmth that good food and good company gave him.

Tonight, they're trying out a little seafood restaurant overlooking the beach that they just _had_ to try (according to Eric). Jordan had fallen in love with it as soon as he walked in - all white wood and blue cushions, and a sunflower on the middle of each table. It’s fairly quiet and they're seated under a little canopy out back, candles dotted around while Virgil looks at him like he's the only thing that exists in the whole world.

"This is nice," Jordan comments, twirling some spaghetti onto his fork. Virgil abandons his seafood pizza to reach over and wipe a smudge of sauce from the corner of Jordan’s mouth, and licks it from his own thumb after. "You're disgusting. If you wanted to try it that bad, you could’ve just asked."

"That's where you draw the line?" Virgil asks, raising an eyebrow. "After what I did to you this morning?"

Jordan kicks him under the table, frown etched onto his face. "Stop it! Don't lower the tone, Virgil. We're on a date," he says. The line between his eyebrows deepens when Virgil just grins.

"This is a date, is it?" Virgil asks, taking a long sip of his cocktail.

"Of course it is," Jordan says, looking around at the flowers and the candles and the fact they're the only ones out the back of this restaurant like it's obvious. It's written all over the place, and he honestly didn't realise Virgil was so obtuse. "What do you think it is?" 

"I thought it was just dinner," Virgil says, but the smirk on his face shows that he's just winding Jordan up. "If I'd have known it was a date, I would've dressed up a little more."

"Shut up," Jordan says, rolling his eyes. He finishes his dinner and sits back in his comfortable chair, peering at Virgil with a sweet little smile on his face. He knows that he looks desperately in love, but he can't quite bring himself to care. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

"I know - you told me before we left the villa," Virgil says, but his cheeks have turned a sweet pink colour. 

"Well, I'm telling you again," Jordan says, gaze trailing down Virgil's body. He's wearing white shorts that are stark against his bronzed skin and a shirt that's so incredibly soft. Jordan can't stop touching it - and it's only a bonus that it makes his shoulders look even broader, _stronger_. "You've never looked better."

"I'll take that for the backhanded compliment it is," Virgil huffs. He looks at Jordan for a moment, considering, and then smiles and cocks his head. "Fancy being a cliché?"

"With you?" Jordan asks, smiling slightly. He reaches across the table and takes Virgil's upturned hand, tangling their fingers together and shivering at the warmth of his palm. "Always."

Virgil pulls him to his feet and over to the little fence that marks the perimeter of the restaurant's courtyard. The sea is lapping gently at the rocks below them and the moon is high in the night sky, and Jordan can't take his eyes off of the rounded reflection rippling in the water as Virgil lowers them into the double egg chair that faces the horizon.

"I had a dream exactly like this once," Virgil murmurs, curling his arm around Jordan's shoulders and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Jordan puts a hand right over his heart and lets the steady beat of it lull him to calmness. "Sitting somewhere like this, overlooking the sky. Bright moon and the sound of waves against the shore. It was before I knew you - way before. I didn't know who I was sitting with, because I couldn't see their face, but I knew that I was happy."

"It's fate," Jordan says distantly, lifting his head to nudge his nose against Virgil's jaw. The younger man smiles and kisses Jordan's forehead, hand rubbing a nice soothing circle on his back. "We're meant to be together. Every single moment of our lives has lead to this one right here."

"Like soulmates?" Virgil asks, curling the fingers of his free hand around Jordan's wrist.

"Like soulmates," Jordan confirms, reaching up and stealing a kiss.

There's never been anywhere else he'd rather be.

.

"Jordan," Virgil's voice says, quiet and kind. The hand on his arm is warm and gentle, smoothing over the skin there in a nice repetitive motion. Jordan sighs contentedly and buries his face further into the soft sheets. "Come on, babe. If you sleep any longer you won't sleep tonight."

"I'm comfy," Jordan grumbles, not even bothering to open his eyes. He feels the edge of the mattress sink where Virgil sits down and can't help but shift back into him, humming happily when the bare skin of his back brushes up against Virgil's thigh. He's glad neither of them are wearing too much clothing, because holidays are meant to be spent naked. "I don't need to sleep tonight."

"Yes, you do," Virgil says gently, burying his fingers in Jordan's hair and scratching his scalp lightly. It makes all the dusky hairs on his arms stand on end, and he all but purrs, tilting his head back so Virgil can get a better angle. "You'll be miserable all week if you miss out on a good night's sleep."

"I don't get miserable," Jordan says, and scowls when Virgil laughs.

"Come on, dinner's almost done," Virgil whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of Jordan's head. He stands up and the loss of warmth makes Jordan shiver, so he pulls the duvet tighter around his shoulders. "Go get a shower. When you get out I'll tape your knee and put some aloe on your back."

"I'm not sunburnt," Jordan snaps back automatically. He's _not_. It's just a bit sensitive, that's all. He can live with a bit of sensitive skin.

"That's why you swore every time you rolled onto your back in your sleep, is it?" Virgil asks mildly. He taps Jordan's temple gently and then walks away, voice retreating with every step. "Get showered and dressed, alright? I'll be in the kitchen."

Jordan lays in the silence for a minute and then sighs, struggling to his feet. The food smells good and the prospect of some nice cool aloe on his- _sensitive skin_ is so incredibly appealing, so he slips through to the shower and turns it on, turning the thermostat to lukewarm. He has no idea how Virgil has burning hot showers when it's forty degrees out. He must melt.

He hisses when the shower stream hits his back, but grits his teeth and bares it because he's not going to give Virgil the satisfaction of being right. He washes quickly and dries even quicker, careful of his sensitive skin, because he's far hungrier than he realised. He barely even bothers to get dressed - throws on a pair of boxers just so Virgil doesn't moan about him being uncivilised around their food. He's pretty sure they're Virgil's pants, anyway.

"Hi," Jordan says, stepping into the kitchen. Virgil is by the stove, stirring a pot, but he looks up at the sound of Jordan's voice and accepts the kiss the older man drops onto his cheek. "What are we eating?"

"Eric texted me a recipe for Portuguese seafood risotto," Virgil says absently, stepping away from the cooker to grab two plates from the cupboard above his head. He focuses on dishing up, and doesn’t even notice the raised eyebrow Jordan is sending his way.

"Oh, Eric texted, did he?" Jordan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. "Do I have something to be worried about? Have I got competition?"

"No, babe, you're fine - his hair is a bit weird," Virgil says, pushing Jordan's plate into his sternum and giving him a kiss at the same time. "Come on, let's eat outside."

"It's a shame you think that about Eric's hair, really," Jordan says absently, following Virgil out of the double doors and onto the patio. It's almost half seven but it's still warm out, and the sun is bright where it's sitting low in the sky. He reaches across the table and snatches Virgil's sunglasses. "I was going to ask which barbers he went to. See if they'd give me the same cut."

"If you do that," Virgil deadpans, settling in his seat and picking up his fork. "I will break up with you on the spot and not feel an ounce of guilt."

"Harsh," Jordan says, frowning as he takes the first bite of his meal. "I thought we'd built a life together."

"We have," Virgil says, chewing his risotto carefully. His leg shifts under the table, and his ankle knocks against Jordan's. Jordan hates how flushed and happy that one simple thing makes him feel. "But if you go out when we get home and have a fucking _viking cut_ , I won't hesitate to tear it all down."

"Guess we're not till death do us part," Jordan grumbles. He doesn’t mean a word of it - he's just being a drama queen. At least he's self aware.

Virgil's face softens. "I'd marry you in a heartbeat, Jordan," he says, and blushes when Jordan smiles at him.

It's a moment. That's the only way to describe it.

"You look ridiculous, you know," Virgil says, because obviously he has to be the one to ruin it. He does have a point though - Jordan's wearing nothing but a pair of Virgil's briefs and his hair is flat on his forehead, sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose. He definitely looks ridiculous, but he can't quite bring himself to care. He's too happy. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Jordan beams, and tries to fight through the ache in his cheeks so he can eat.

.

Jordan sighs happily and pushes through the water to press himself against Virgil's side.

"Got a taste for champagne now, haven't you?" Virgil asks, but he's grinning. He watches as Jordan reaches over and swipes the bottle from the little table next to the hot tub and fills his glass right up to the top, then holds his own out expectantly. "Need to keep an eye on you, make sure you don't develop a problem."

He tuts, but doesn't dignify it with an answer.

"Where did you even get champagne?" Jordan asks, resting his cheek against Virgil’s chest. He doesn’t even mind that his hair smears through the water droplets, because he's comfortable and happy and a little bit tipsy. He feels great. "In fact, _why_ did you get it?"

"I got it yesterday when you were napping and I went shop," Virgil says, fingertips dancing up and down Jordan’s bicep lightly. It half tickles and half feels nice, so Jordan closes his eyes. “And I got it because we’re champions. We’re celebrating, Jord. We won the Premier League – you don’t get to say that often.”

“That was well over a month ago,” Jordan huffs, although it does make his bones start buzzing when he thinks about it too much.

“Pedantics,” Virgil says dismissively. He plucks Jordan’s glass out of his hand and places both of them on the side before his hands curl tight around the older man’s hips, pulling him effortlessly until he’s settled on his hips. They’re both a little bit tipsy and very happy, and it feels good. “Hi, babe.”

“Hello,” Jordan says, smiling slightly. He goes a bit cross-eyed when he tries to focus on Virgil’s face and then gives up, closing his eyes as he nudges their noses together and finally kisses him. His tongue tastes like sweet champagne and bubbles, and his hands are so warm through the water. 

They kiss for what feels like hours. Jordan feels like he could stay here for hours, so it doesn’t really matter – the water is warm and Virgil’s heart is beating steadily against his own chest, reminding him of how alive he feels.

And then Virgil’s hand slides down the back of his shorts, pad of his finger pressing against his hole.

“You sore?” Virgil asks, kissing down his throat. Jordan probably should say yes because he’s a little bit sensitive, but it only adds to the feeling, so he shakes his head and feels Virgil smile against his neck. It’s easy for him to slip two fingers in, because Jordan is still loose from earlier.

“I love you,” Jordan whispers, one hand cupped around Virgil’s cheek. He tilts the younger man’s head back and kisses him slowly, tongue curling around the backs of his teeth and nipping on his bottom lip. Virgil slides another finger in and then presses intently against his prostate, just to hear the desperate little noise that Jordan lets out. 

He feels like the most attractive person in the world when Virgil treats him like this. When he can't keep his hands off Jordan's body, and whispers filthy things in his ear - Jordan's never felt more in love. He doesn't quite understand the hows or whys, but he knows that Virgil doesn't have eyes for anyone else.

"I love you too, sweetheart," Virgil murmurs, right against Jordan's mouth. He bites his bottom lip sharply and then soothes over the spot with his tongue, pressing one soft peck to it before licking a wet path along the strong line of his jaw. His fingers are still moving, scissoring and stretching, and Jordan is so overwhelmed with how much Virgil cares about him that he feels tears spring to his eyes. "My gorgeous boy."

Virgil doesn't say much after that, but he doesn't need to. His mouth on Jordan's throat is warm and his free hand is careful on the small of Jordan's back, and his love is in every single touch. He's so incredibly gentle that the gaspy little moans tearing from Jordan's lungs feel wrong. 

"I'm gonna––" Jordan whimpers, pawing at Virgil's shoulder. "I'm gonna come if you––"

"It's okay," Virgil murmurs, brushing his mouth against Jordan's shoulder in a kiss. He pulls his fingers out but keeps his hand on the curve of Jordan's arse, all possessive like he's saying _mine. You're mine_. Jordan finds that he doesn't mind it too much. "I'm going to fuck you now, okay?"

“Here?” Jordan asks, but he thinks he’d let Virgil fuck him just about anywhere right now.

“Yeah,” Virgil confirms, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of Jordan’s swimming shorts and slowly dragging them down his hips. Jordan shifts so Virgil can get them off completely and then settles back on his lap. “It’s okay – nobody can see us here. And if they do, well – that just makes it all a bit more exciting, doesn’t it?”

Jordan kisses the smirk right off his face. 

Virgil’s grip on his hips is tight enough to bruise, but it’s so worth it when he lowers Jordan onto his dick and bottoms out quickly. It feels so good, full and overwhelming, and he puts both hands on Virgil’s face to pull him in for a kiss.

He lifts his hips and then grinds back down, setting a steady pace. He's in no rush - Virgil's skin is warm to the touch and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glittering wide and mouth parted as he looks up at Jordan like he hung the moon and the stars and everything else in the sky, and the head of his dick is brushing sparks against Jordan's prostate with every thrust. He wants to live in this moment for the rest of his life.

"You're so beautiful," Virgil murmurs, eyes still shining brightly. He moves one hand from Jordan's hip up to wrap around the side of his neck like he's holding something delicate. "Never thought I'd find someone like you. Must be the luckiest man on the planet."

Jordan wants to say ditto, but that doesn't quite cut it, so he leans down to give Virgil a slow, deep kiss. He can feel fire burning hot in his belly so he pushes closer to chase the friction on his dick from Virgil's abs, and the sensation of the water lapping at his skin is something else entirely. 

(They're not exactly well versed in water sex. They tried it in the shower once, but Virgil slipped and strained his thigh muscle and had to pretend he'd injured himself when he was out for an evening jog. After that, they'd decided it wasn't worth the risk).

"I'm gonna come," Jordan whispers, and this time, instead of stopping, Virgil gets a hand between them to curl around his dick. The sheer relief of it is beautiful and he lets out a quiet sob, fitting his palm around the back of Virgil's head just because he needs something to cling onto.

His orgasm takes over his body slowly. He's shaking, sparks of electricity spreading through his veins until he can't take it anymore and his grip on Virgil tightens. He comes, fucking up into the younger man's fist, muffling his quiet moan in Virgil's hair. 

Virgil's hands are hot on his back and his hips freeze, coming with his mouth pressed to Jordan's throat. He bites down, hard enough that it's going to bruise, and Jordan can't help but gasp out a high pitched whine.

The jets are still going and Jordan's heart is still pounding as he takes a moment to calm down and Virgil is pressing soothing kisses to the spot he just marked, and he feels so fucking loved it hurts, except.

Except.

"This is kind of gross," he comments distantly, pulling away far enough to frown down at the water. "I can't believe you talked me into this, Virgil. We're definitely not the only people to ever have sex in this hot tub."

"Might not be the only ones, but we are the last," Virgil says, pressing kisses up Jordan's throat. "For now, anyway."

"You're disgusting," Jordan says, struggling out of Virgil's grip and grabbing his shorts from the side. He stands, covering himself with the shorts (although he's not sure why. Virgil did worse than see it barely even a minute ago), and glares over his shoulder as he gets out of the hot tub. "I refuse to step foot in this water ever again."

"Fine by me," Virgil calls, picking up the champagne bottle and taking a long swig. "We're going to Switzerland tomorrow, anyway."

.

Virgil is already awake when Jordan blinks himself awake. 

“What time is it?” He slurs, rolling into Virgil’s body. He’s nice and warm and the rise and fall of his chest is so soothing. Jordan puts a palm flat on the lowest patch of his belly where the thin trail of hair stretches downwards.

“Still early,” Virgil whispers, curling an arm around Jordan’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his temple. He reaches across to the bedside table and picks his watch up, squinting at it before dropping it back on the table. “Ten past five.”

“Why am I awake?” Jordan huffs. He presses his palm more intently onto Virgil’s stomach and buries his face in his neck, trying his hardest to go back to sleep.

“We fell asleep watching the stars,” Virgil says, bringing his hand up to card through Jordan’s hair. He gestures over at the full length windows and the sun starting to rise through the gaps in the mountains. “Forgot to close the blinds.”

“Seen worse views at this time in the morning,” Jordan says, but he’s not looking at the mountains.

Virgil turns his head and looks at him, cheeks rosy red and bottom lip caught between his teeth. He looks, and then he smiles, a sweet little curious thing that Jordan treasures. He leans forward and kisses him, slow and sleepy, eyelashes brushing gently against Jordan’s cheeks. It’s the kind of kiss that makes his toes curl, his chest feel tight. 

“I love you,” Jordan whispers, barely pulling away from Virgil’s mouth. He smiles, teeth digging into Virgil’s bottom lip and scratches his fingernails against the sensitive skin just above his pubic bone. “So much.” 

“Fuck,” Virgil hisses quietly. He shifts restlessly and his hips slide against the inside of Jordan’s wrist. He can feel the outline of his dick, hard and hot, even through his boxers. “I love you too, J.”

Jordan hums and catches his mouth in a soft kiss. He can feel Virgil getting more and more restless next to him and pities him, rubbing his thumb along the very top of the waistband of his boxers.

“What do you want, babe?” Jordan asks, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s chest. His tongue flickers out and catches over the younger man’s nipple, drawing a quiet, broken moan from deep in his lungs. It vibrates through his body and into Jordan’s. 

“You,” Virgil gasps, pressing his forehead against Jordan’s temple. He doesn’t take his eyes off of the older man’s face.

“You’ve got me, Virgil,” Jordan whispers, pressing an awkward kiss to the corner of Virgil’s mouth. He slides the tips of his fingers underneath the waistband of his boxers and ruffles through the coarse curls there, scratching at the base of his dick gently. “I’m yours. All yours.” 

He tucks Virgil’s boxers down and fits them snugly under his balls, drawing in a sharp breath when his dick springs free and smears wet against his stomach. The sight of it makes his mouth water. 

He's never wanted anyone quite like this. Virgil's cock, straining against his joggers and pulsing against his hand even through the layers of clothing - it sends his head spinning. The pure sight of it makes him feel greedy, and he’s never really been a slut but Virgil's dick is just beautiful. It sounds strange even to himself, but it _is_. The length and girth of it, and the weight of it when it sits hot and heavy in Jordan's hand. The smooth head, red and shiny and leaking precome. The thick vein running up the underside and the whimper that Virgil lets out when Jordan presses his thumb against it hard.

He curls his fist around the shaft and hums, content and pressed against Virgil's shoulder. It's embarrassing, really, how happy he is just to hold it, but Virgil presses a shaky kiss to his hair. His thumb and forefinger don't even meet around it and he just feels so desperate. He wants to taste it, to feel it inside him. Everything, anything - he just wants Virgil to make him feel good.

He can’t take his eyes off of the way his fingers look wrapped around Virgil's dick. The contrast of his pale skin against the flushed, heated red. He wonders what the calluses on his fingertips feel like on the velvety soft skin, if it hurts when they catch or if they make Virgil feel even better. He intends to ask, but a drop of precome slides down the length of Virgil's dick and he gets distracted.

Virgil sobs when Jordan moves his hand away, but it's replaced with a whimper when he rubs his palm over the head instead. He smears through the shiny wetness there and uses it to lube his fist, wrapping his fingers back around it and jacking upanddownupanddown slowly. 

He's well aware of Virgil's eyes burning into his face, but he can't stop watching the way his own hand moves.

A choked noise claws up his throat and echoes around the room, and he throws a leg over Virgil's thighs to stop him shifting so restlessly. At least, that's what he tells himself it is - it's more possessive than that. Nobody can see them here but if they did, he wants everyone to know that Virgil is his. He wants them to know that they're on the outside looking in, jealousy written all over their faces and mouths watering at the impossible prospect of having Virgil like this.

Nobody else gets to do this. Just him. 

He's so hard it hurts but he doesn't care about himself and what he wants. Virgil is the only thing that matters right now; Virgil and his slow sleepy blinks, his flushed cheeks and the way his bottom lip is caught painfully between his teeth - his dick, hot and heavy in Jordan's hand, pulsing every so often and leaking like he can't help himself.

Jordan loves him so, so much.

He rubs his thumb along the underside of the head of Virgil's dick because he knows that it makes the younger man toss his head back and let out a whine. It works - he doesn't move this time but he does whine, low and deep in his chest. His dick twitches in Jordan's hand and the head gets wetter. 

"Jordan," Virgil breathes, clawing at his shoulders. Jordan smiles through the scratching pain and smiles when Virgil presses a dry kiss to his cheek. He knows what the younger man is after, and he's never been able to say no, so he starts moving his hand again, grip tight and wrist flicking in the way that he knows Virgil likes.

"You are everything," Jordan whispers, watching the way the sunlight floods the room and bathes Virgil's skin in golden tones. He's so incredibly beautiful. Jordan has been lost in him since the very first moment he said hello. "Everything to me, Virgil."

Virgil's free hand comes up to cup Jordan's cheek, turning his head towards him. Their noses brush and they're so close that Jordan's vision is out of focus, but none of that matters when Virgil closes the gap between them in a soft kiss. He deepens it only moments later, long fingers brushing through the short hairs at the back of Jordan's skull.

Jordan doesn't stop the movement of his hand. He's focused entirely on Virgil, on how he feels and what he wants (the things that Jordan feels so intrinsically), so he kisses him, keeps kissing him until he's not sure where one of them starts and the other ends. 

The one thing that he does know is that he can tell the exact moment Virgil starts to fall apart. He gasps into Jordan's mouth, not even bothering to pull away from the kiss, and the older man smirks, nipping at his bottom lip. He thumbs hard over the head and then runs the blunt edge of his nail over the slit, and the slight hint of pain pushes him over the edge. He gasps Jordan's name and then warm streaks of come are hitting Jordan's fist and Virgil's stomach.

Jordan keeps pumping his fist. He can't take his eyes off the way Virgil's dick is still hard and leaking, come rolling down the length of it to meet Jordan's hand. The younger man is shaking, head pressed back against the pillow, but then he makes a wounded noise and paws at Jordan's shoulder to push him away. 

He lets go but drags the tips of his fingers through the come on Virgil's stomach, lifting them to his mouth and tasting it. He manages not to let out any embarrassing noises, but he does shiver at the familiar taste, and Virgil lets out a broken sob, hand coming up to fist in his own hair.

"You're going to put me into an early grave," he says, pulling the sheets up over his crotch like he can't handle anything else. Knowing him, he probably can't. Plays every minute of two full seasons but barely has the stamina for Jordan making him come. "I'll see you lick your fingers after you've given me a handjob one too many times and have a heart attack."

"You just can't handle it in your old age," Jordan says, stretching across for a kiss. He pulls back and rests his head on Virgil's bicep. 

"D'you want…?" Virgil asks. He brushes the back of his hand over Jordan's dick straining against his shorts and then lets it fall onto his thigh, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of Jordan's nose.

"No, I'm fine," Jordan murmurs, laying his arm across Virgil's chest and curling a hand around his jaw. He strokes his cheek gently and watches the soft lines of his face, his eyelashes fluttering delicately against his reddened skin. "I want to go back to sleep."

Virgil fumbles about on the bedside table until he finds the remote for the blinds and then presses the right button and drops it down. They both watch as the light gets blocked out and then when the room is finally black, Virgil presses a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Love you," Virgil whispers, but Jordan is mostly asleep. He thinks he replies, but he's not quite sure.

It doesn't matter anyway. Virgil knows.

.

"Where are you taking me?" Jordan grumbles, resting his arms on the handlebars of his bike and pedalling slowly. It's too hot for this, but Virgil insisted and then sucked Jordan off in the kitchen to convince him properly.

"It's not far," Virgil says, twisting his body around to look at Jordan over his shoulder. His white t-shirt stretches tight across the muscles of his back and Jordan doesn't know how it's possible to fancy someone this much. All they've done over the last ten days is have sex, but he's still not satisfied. "Just round this corner, I think. Besides - isn't it nice not to be stopped for photos for once?"

Jordan hums in agreement. The trail they're on is completely dead and the only noise is the sound of the birds chirping. Jordan's dick should be out of action, but he's still wondering if they can find a sneaky little clearing to have some alone time.

They don't say much for the rest of the journey. It's nice, being able to sit in comfortable silence with someone. Jordan's never had it before - not to this extent, anyway. Not to the point he can sit on the phone with Virgil for four hours when they're away on international duty, and not say one word, content just to listen to the sound of Virgil's breathing.

Besides, the silence gives him the opportunity to take in all the tiny details of Virgil that he's scared of overlooking most days. Like the constellation of freckles on the back of Virgil's neck, disappearing under the collar of his t-shirt. Jordan promises himself that he's going to map the path of them with his tongue later.

"We're here," Virgil says, slowing to his stop and putting his foot on the ground to balance himself. He sounds cautiously proud of himself, and glances over at Jordan with a small smile on his face when he stops, too.

"Oh," Jordan breathes, looking out across the field. It's filled with hundreds of sunflowers, facing up to the sky and standing taller than Virgil. Jordan can't help but feel a little disappointed, though. "I wish I had my camera for this."

Virgil makes an excited noise and climbs off his bike, kicking the stand down and then reaching into his backpack. He pulls out the camera case and hands it over to Jordan with pink cheeks.

"Knew you'd want it," he says, blinking sweetly.

Jordan gently lowers his bike to the ground and then takes two steps towards Virgil to press a kiss to his face, and then another and another until Virgil is pulling away with a laugh. He can't help it - he knows it's only a small thing, but it's still incredibly thoughtful. It's all the tiny things like this that make up the kind heart in Virgil's chest. 

"I love you," Jordan says, smiling sweetly. He curves his hand around Virgil's cheek and reaches up to press one more kiss to his mouth before pulling away completely, turning back to look across the rows and rows of sunflowers. "I love this. And you. And just - this whole holiday."

"It's not over yet," Virgil says, rolling his eyes. He finds Jordan's hands between them and tangles their fingers together. "You might hate it by the end."

"Never," Jordan says, and looks up in time to catch the blush that's spread across Virgil's cheeks.

Virgil reaches out and tangles their fingers together before leading Jordan further into the field. The sunflowers tower over them, leaves brushing against his arms, but it's fascinating. He feels like all their heads are turned towards them, watching them, framing them like they're the only thing that matters on this entire earth. Jordan feels like that right now.

"You gonna let me take some pictures?" Jordan asks, pressing up close to Virgil's side when they stop in a clearing. He looks up at him with an innocent smile on his face and stretches up to kiss his jaw. Virgil hates it when Jordan wants to take photos - mostly because he wants to capture every little detail, and Virgil is far too impatient. 

"Only if you don't take too long," Virgil says, curling an arm around Jordan’s shoulders and kissing the crown of his head. "I told you you need to live in the moment more."

"No promises," Jordan says, placing a hand right over Virgil's heart and leaning up to kiss him. He pulls away with a pat and takes a few steps back, fiddling about with his camera and getting it set up. Virgil waits, so patient, running his fingers up and down the stem of the closest sunflower to him. He's fascinated by it, looking at every little detail and then tracing his fingers over the lines on the leaf. 

Jordan gets caught in watching him, the freckles across his nose that have appeared in the sun, the way his forehead is peeling a little bit. He's so in love it hurts, and when Virgil looks up questioningly, he just smiles.

"You ready?" He asks, waving his camera in Virgil's direction. The younger man nods but he looks slightly reluctant, so Jordan reaches across to give him a reassuring kiss. 

He takes the pictures, and Virgil lets him. It's nice, really – he loves the way Virgil flushes under all his praise. Jordan wonders sometimes whether the words lose their meaning when he says them so much, but Virgil seems to never get tired of it all.

The golden tones of the sun bouncing off the petals and onto Virgil’s skin makes him look like he’s glowing. Jordan’s very own angel, although he’s pouting and muttering obscenities at this point, so maybe not quite as angelic as he’d hope. 

“I’m done,” Jordan says, rolling his eyes. He puts his camera away and hands the case back to Virgil so he can put it back in his bag. “You’re such a drama queen.” 

“Am not,” Virgil grumbles, still pouting. He reaches across and punches Jordan’s bicep gently. “Do you wanna get lunch?” 

“Not just yet,” Jordan says. He’s got a secretive little smile on his face and Virgil finds it suspicious, judging by the little glare on his face. He doesn’t look best pleased.

“I’m not letting you take more pictures,” Virgil says firmly.

“I’m not taking any more pictures,” Jordan huffs, taking a step forward. He shoves his phone in his pocket and holds his hands palms up so Virgil can see that he’s surrendering. “I just thought –– come here, you big idiot.” 

Jordan hooks his arms around Virgil’s neck and stretches up onto his tiptoes. Their noses brush and he smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of Virgil’s mouth, and then he kisses him properly. Brushes his tongue along the seam of his bottom lip and treasures the little gasp that Virgil lets out.

It’s probably a little risky doing this here, but when Jordan asked, Virgil said that the local who told him about the field said it was a little hidden gem. Nobody comes here, apparently – but Jordan is willing to take the risk anyway. He curls his tongue around the back of Virgil’s teeth and presses up against his body.

They kiss for what feels like hours. Jordan wouldn’t know any better, because every second he spends with Virgil feels like a lifetime. He loves that though, because he wants to spend eternity with him. There’s nobody else he’d rather be with, and he’s completely and entirely sure that Virgil feels the same, too.

“Mm, love you,” Virgil says, pulling back with a pop. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are half lidded and he is so unadulteratedly happy that it makes Jordan’s heart hurt.

“I love you too,” Jordan whispers, stealing one more chaste kiss. He pulls back with a smile. “Come on, let’s get back to the villa. If you’re lucky, it might be more than the bike I’m riding today.”

Jordan’s never actually seen Virgil move that fast. He’s impressed.

.

Virgil crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m marking them down a star when we leave a review,” he huffs. He’s pouting like a child and he’s still a bit sweaty, cheeks reddened from the scene he created. Thank god Jordan was the only person here to see it – the second hand embarrassment was enough without anyone else having to witness it, too. 

“It was a spider, Virgil,” Jordan says, voice completely flat. He isn’t entertaining any of this.

“Exactly! It was a spider!” Virgil says. His voice is getting a little bit shrill, and Jordan definitely hasn’t heard that before. He’s got half a mind to film it, show the lads when they’re back in training, but he thinks he might get a slap if he pulls his phone out now. “I don’t fuck with spiders, Jordan – they bite in Switzerland! I Googled it!” 

“This one didn’t bite, did it?” Jordan says, rolling his eyes. He’s never quite understood how this six foot something _massive_ , terrifying man is shit scared of spiders. It’s actually comical. “And now it is outside, at the bottom of the garden, where it belongs.” 

“But it was in the _shower_. Where it didn’t belong,” Virgil says. He looks like he’s about half a second away from stomping his foot – and Jordan will _definitely_ film that. “What if it comes back?” 

“It’s not going to come back,” Jordan says. He turns his back on Virgil and goes to the fridge, pretending to get a bottle of water out, but he’s really looking at the younger man’s reflection in the shiny steel. “I was going to suck you off in the shower this afternoon, but I guess you won’t want me to now – considering that’s where the spider was.”

“Hang on a minute –– I think that’s a bit preemptive,” Virgil says. Jordan turns around to see him frowning and beams at him, and the frown only grows deeper. “I never said I didn’t want that.” 

“You don’t have to, sweetheart,” Jordan says, mockingly pitying. He reaches up and taps Virgil’s cheek, pinching the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Virgil shoves him away, but gently. He’s never been able to fight with Jordan, not even playfully. “I can read between the lines. I know how awful your phobia is, so you obviously won’t want me on my knees in a place where a spider was an hour ago. It’s okay. I understand.”

“This is cruel,” Virgil mutters. His cheeks are getting redder by the second. 

“No, baby,” Jordan says, completely over the top. He’s making every movement exaggerated and dramatic, but at least it’s working. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I get it. No blowjob for you.”

"That's not fair!" Virgil cries. He's pouting now and he reaches out to take Jordan's hand. Jordan isn't cruel enough to stop it happening, so he tangles their fingers together and lets Virgil sidle up close, fingers wrapping around his hip. "I sucked you off this morning. I seem to recall you very much enjoyed it."

"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind," Jordan hums, tilting his head back when Virgil tries to kiss him. The younger man ends up biting down the column of Jordan's throat, so it's a win for everybody. "So what? It wasn't selfless? You expect me to return the favour?"

"Er, _yes_ ," Virgil says, sounding completely affronted. He slides his hand up to tangle in Jordan’s hair, holding him in place so he can kiss him properly. This time, Jordan lets him. "It’s only the polite thing to do, don't you think?"

Jordan sighs, all dramatic. 

"When you put it like that," he hums, pressing his mouth against the pulse point on Virgil's neck. He grazes his teeth over it and feels it flutter, smirking against the skin. "I suppose I'll see what I can do."

He slides his hands down to grip Virgil's hips and then walks him backwards slowly, until his back hits the table and they can't go any further. 

They stand there for a moment, kissing slowly. Jordan rocks his hips against Virgil's and the younger man stutters out a gasp, hands on Jordan's biceps digging in almost painfully. His cheeks are already red and his mouth is already swollen, and Jordan loves him so, so much. He can't think of a better way to spend a rainy Swiss afternoon.

"Love you," Jordan whispers, stealing one more kiss, and then he drops to his knees before Virgil can reply. 

"Hang on," Virgil says, placing a hand on Jordan's shoulder. He pushes him away gently and then twists to reach behind him, to grab a cushion from one of the dining chairs. He hands it down to Jordan and flushes when all he gets in return is a sweet, thankful smile. "Your knee is already fucked. Don't want you out any longer than necessary - need you to do all my running for me."

"Don’t pretend you're not a big softie," Jordan says, pushing the hem of Virgil's t-shirt up to press a chaste kiss to the soft strip of skin above his waistband. "Don't worry - I won't ruin your reputation."

"Shut up," Virgil says. He flushes bright red but brushes his fingers gently through Jordan's hair all the same.

Jordan grins, but decides to drop it anyway. He presses a dry kiss to the patch of skin just above Virgil’s belly button and ruffles his fingers through the dusky hairs that lead down, curling his fingers around the waistband of his boxers. He kisses the sharp point of his right hip bone and then smiles, dragging his boxers down to bunch around his thighs. His dick springs free, already hard, and smears wet against his stomach.

Jordan hums happily, curling both hands around Virgil’s thighs.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, and doesn’t know whether he’s referring to the entirety of Virgil or just his cock.

Virgil fists his fingers into Jordan’s hair and twists tight. Not enough to hurt or to pull him in any direction, but enough that he can feel it. Enough that the presence of Virgil is everywhere, in front of him and behind him and at the sides, until it’s all he can think about. Enough that the suggestion of it makes his mouth water.

He digs his thumbs into the soft flesh of Virgil’s inner thighs, teeth scraping gently just above. He’s obsessed with Virgil’s thighs, the size of them, the way they look when he’s tensing, the softness of them when he sits down. The way they feel when Virgil’s got him spread across his lap, taking him apart just to put him back together again – _god_. He shivers, and bites down hard.

The noise Virgil lets out is unbelievable. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard it before and it makes his dick ache where it’s trapped in his boxers, but that doesn’t matter right now. He presses a gentle kiss to the bruise he just left then laps his tongue over it soothingly.

He kisses a path up the inside of his thigh, hand rubbing up and down the outside, and nudges his nose against the crease of his hip. His cheek brushes against the length of Virgil’s dick and the younger man’s fist tightens in Jordan’s hair for a split second, so he moves away. Makes sure he’s not touching it and then buries his nose there again, in the dark curls, inhaling the musky, earthy smell of his sex. It surrounds him, floods his senses, makes him want more. It’s so intrinsically _Virgil_ that he wants to cry.

“Fuck,” he lets out, broken and raw. He takes a deep breath in and slides his hand to cup the back of Virgil’s thigh, like he’s trying to keep him in places. He knows by now that Virgil isn’t going anywhere, though.

“I love you,” Virgil whispers, sliding his thumb along the length of Jordan’s cheekbone. The touch is so incredibly delicate, but it gives Jordan the strength to move again.

He brings his other hand around to scratch through the coarse curls at the base of Virgil’s dick, letting the desperate little whimper the movement elicits drape around his shoulders like a comfort blanket. It feels like forever, but he finally takes his dick in his hand and feels the weight of it, hot and velvety. 

“Shit,” Virgil hisses, grip tightening again.

Jordan smiles and pumps his fist a few times, watching the way a drop of precome slides down the length of it. He presses a kiss to the underside just to feel it twitch against his mouth and then gives up with the teasing. He flattens his tongue against the head and the taste of Virgil makes his mouth water, that familiar mixture of salty and sweet at the same time. 

Virgil untangles his fingers from Jordan’s hair but fits his palm around the back of his head instead, cupping his skull and encouraging him to move. Jordan does what he’s told – he wraps his lips around the head and sucks hard for a second, and then when that starts to make Virgil shift uncomfortably, he slides his mouth down slowly, taking as much of it in as he can. He’s used to this, used to the length and the girth of Virgil’s dick, but he still has to take his time. If he’s too greedy, he’ll choke. He learns that the hard way every so often.

“That’s it, you’re so good,” Virgil whispers, stroking Jordan’s hair gently. His voice sounds broken and turned on beyond belief, and he stutters in a deep breath when Jordan digs his nails into the meat of his thigh. “Keep going, baby. Carry on.” 

He slides deeper, inching slowly until his lips meet his fist. The head of Virgil’s dick is hitting the back of his throat now, so deep he can’t even taste the precome anymore, but the strange, smug sense of pride he feels from doing this is what makes it so good. He moves his hand and presses it flat against the dark curls, the base of Virgil’s dick resting between his thumb and his forefinger, and slides down until all of him is in his mouth.

The noise that Virgil chokes out is stunning, and he tangles his fingers in Jordan’s hair again to slowly pull him off. He sits back on his heels and catches his breath, taking Virgil’s dick in his hand again and jacking his fist to take the edge off. 

“You taste so good,” he groans, pressing the heel of his other hand against his own dick. He’s so hard it hurts. 

He laps at the precome that’s leaking from the slit again and listens to Virgil whine, and takes him in his mouth again. It’s different this time – he’s desperate to please Virgil, to make him feel good, to make him come. That’s all he wants, all he can think about, so he flattens his tongue against the thick vein that runs down the underside and hums lowly. 

The vibration makes Virgil hiss out and he tightens his fingers instinctively, making Jordan’s head snap back. He doesn’t move too far though, bobs up and down the length of it and takes Virgil’s balls in his other hand. They’re drawn tight, skin hot and velvety, and he ghosts the tips of his fingers over them, rolls them in his palm, just the way he knows Virgil likes.

“I’m gonna come,” Virgil says. It’s supposed to be a warning but Jordan takes it as a challenge and he speeds up the movement of his hand on Virgil’s cock. It doesn’t take long – his balls draw even tighter and he freezes, grip on Jordan’s hair relaxing for a moment, and then he comes, hot streaks of it on Jordan’s tongue. He swallows as much as he can and then pulls off, wiping his mouth as he tries to catch his breath. 

Virgil pulls him to his feet. He pauses, just for a moment, so he can pull Virgil's boxers back into place and tuck his dick away, pressing his palm flat over the front just to listen to the wounded noise he lets out. 

"So good at that," Virgil sighs. He curls one arm around Jordan's waist to hold him close and fits the palm of his other hand around his cheek, bringing him in for a kiss. He groans into Jordan’s mouth. “Love it when you taste like me, J.” 

“Sweet talker,” Jordan whispers. He’s hard and it’s starting to get uncomfortable now, so he rocks his hips against Virgil’s thigh just to find a bit of friction. It feels good, even through the material of his boxers, and he lets out a harsh breath. Virgil’s hand tightens on his back like he knows he needs it.

“I love you,” Virgil whispers, pressing a kiss to the high point of Jordan’s cheekbone. He flattens his palm, encouraging him to move, so Jordan does – he drags his hips against Virgil’s muscle and feels himself get harder, wet spot forming at the front of his boxers where his dick is leaking. It’s not going to take long anyway. “Come on, babe. Come for me.” 

Jordan tucks his face into Virgil’s neck and doesn’t stop moving. He’s got one hand on Virgil’s chest and the other gripping his waist, and he feels tears spring to his eyes as Virgil keeps talking him through it. 

He freezes, mouth caught open on a gasp, and comes. His whole body feels light, like he could float upupandaway, but Virgil grounds him. Holds him down when he feels like he’s going to disappear. 

“You okay?” Virgil asks, nudging his nose against Jordan’s temple. He’s stroking his back gently, palm hot on the bare skin, and not for the first time today, Jordan is struck by how much he loves him. It’s so overwhelming.

“I’m perfect,” he whispers. It’s a lie, really – he’s just come in his pants for the first time since he was about fifteen and it’s ridiculously uncomfortable – but he is so, so happy it hurts. “Wouldn’t mind a shower though.” 

“Come on, then,” Virgil says, untangling himself from Jordan so he can guide him into the bathroom. “Shower for two?” 

“Only if you don’t talk about the spider,” Jordan hums, patting Virgil’s stomach gently. 

“No promises,” Virgil says, but he’s grinning and leaning down to press a kiss to Jordan’s head.

Jordan doesn’t think he’d rather have it any other way.

.

"I like Switzerland," Jordan says, glancing out the full length windows. There's nothing but trees outside and it's starting to get dark, bathing the whole room in a dusky blue colour. Virgil reaches across to turn the lamp on, and long shadows are cast over his face. "I don't want to leave."

“Gotta go to training, babe,” Virgil says. His voice is kind though, and he reaches his leg out to hook his foot around Jordan’s ankle. “Besides – we haven’t actually done anything.”

"Exactly," Jordan says, pushing his garlic bread through the sauce on his plate. It was his turn to cook tonight, which means they're eating something that takes little skill. At least Virgil seems to enjoy his spaghetti bolognese. "We haven't done anything. We've made our own food and we've not gone into town. Stayed in the countryside where no one can see us or we've just spent time in the villa. It's just been us, hasn't it? How often do we get to be _us_?"

Virgil hums in agreement.

"When we're both retired, I'll buy us a house here," Virgil says, swirling some spaghetti onto his fork. He chews thoughtfully, smiling a little bit, with bright eyes. "We can eat nothing but pasta and have so much sex that we won't be able to walk for days at a time."

"Despite the spiders?" Jordan asks, smiling secretively. That's what it feels like - he and Virgil know something the whole world doesn't.

"In spite of," Virgil says, reaching across the table to tangle their fingers together.

"...Deal," Jordan says.

He's already looking forward to it.

.

Jordan sighs and presses his head back against Virgil's shoulder. He's exhausted - the flight wasn't that long but it made him feel all groggy, and the change in altitude as Virgil drove higher up the mountains hadn't helped. Still, this bath is exactly what he needed. He's starting to adjust to the altitude and the views aren't too bad, either. It doesn't hurt that Virgil's skin is nice and warm against his.

"You okay?" Virgil whispers, lips moving against his neck. He presses a soft kiss there and brings his hand down to cover Jordan's heart, palm flattening over the warm skin of his chest.

"Just tired," Jordan murmurs, turning his head to the side for a kiss. Virgil obliges and then kisses his nose, smiling when Jordan scrunches it up sweetly. The radio is on in the background, low and soothing, and Jordan honestly thinks he could fall asleep right now. He's content. "I like it here."

"Saved the best for last," Virgil says, kissing Jordans temple. He looks out of the full length window and over the lake. There's nobody around for miles and miles - just mountains and trees and water, blue skies and not a cloud to be seen. Jordan supposes that's why he chose this place. "It's our last week just us. I don't want to do anything except be with you."

"You don't have to do anything else," Jordan murmurs, closing his eyes and tilting his head back against Virgil's chest. The younger man brings his wet hand up to card through Jordan's hair and it feels so nice that he can't even bring himself to complain about the fact he's going to wake up tomorrow with it all sticking up in random directions. "We'll pretend we've got nothing to do for the rest of our lives and enjoy each other's company as such. Deal?'

Virgil brings his pinky finger up to link with Jordan's in a promise.

"Deal," he whispers.

.

Jordan rests his cheek on his forearm and closes his eyes. They might be up in the mountains but there's no sign of snow - it's hot, hitting forty degrees, and the sun is absolutely beating down on the patio. There's no shade, but Jordan doesn't mind. He likes the way Virgil becomes obsessed with putting his hands on his skin when it turns a nice tanned brown.

He's got his air pods in so he can't hear anything except the low, soothing bass of Drake. He knows Virgil is on the next sunbed reading a book, but he can't hear him or see him or feel him. It's just nice, being together without having to _be_. Jordan likes that Virgil doesn't expect anything from him. He's just about the only person that doesn't.

He's falling asleep when he feels hands on his waist. Normally, it would shock him awake, but he feels so safe up here out of reach from the rest of the world that he just blinks, coming back to full consciousness slowly. Virgil drapes himself over his back and kisses his cheek. 

"Hi," he murmurs, gently plucking the air pods out of Jordan’s ears. He puts them on the little table next to them and runs his fingers up and down his arms, pressing kiss after kiss to his cheek and jaw and neck - anywhere he can reach. "You look hot."

"I'm fine," Jordans hums, closing his eyes again.

"No, I mean - you look _hot_ ," Virgil says, smoothing a hand down Jordan's side to curve over his bum. He shifts a little, and then Jordan can feel his hard dick pressing intently. Oh - so he means like that. "Want you so bad."

Jordan could never say no to that.

He blindly shoves his phone onto the table and twists his head so he can steal a kiss. Virgil obliges, but it’s not what Jordan was expecting - it's hot and harsh, teeth clashing painfully. Virgil nips his bottom lip by accident, and swipes his tongue over the spot soothingly. 

"So gorgeous," Virgil murmurs, moving to press kisses along the span of Jordan's shoulders. His hands slide lower, resting on his waist and thumbs pressing into the dips at the bottom of his spine, and it makes Jordan feel restless. He shifts and feels Virgil's dick slide against the back of his thigh. 

Virgil smiles against his skin and licks a wet path down his spine. His teeth graze over the sensitive skin of his ribs and it tickles, but in a way that makes him feel like he's on fire. Virgil always makes him feel like that. It comes with the territory of being in love with someone so captivating.

"I love you," Virgil whispers, hand sliding under Jordan's body until his fingers catch over a nipple. He squeezes gently and Jordan shudders, pushing back against him. All Virgil has to do is look at him and he's so turned on he can't think straight. It's dangerous. "Never knew what love was, until I met you. Thought I did but it’s nothing compared to this. You make me feel like the only person in the world."

"Love you so much," Jordan gasps, covering Virgil's hand with his own and dragging it down between his legs. Virgil almost vibrates with excitement and presses the heel of his palm against Jordan's hard dick, letting out a groan when he feels it. "Want you."

Virgil pulls away to press kisses down the line of his spine, wet and heated. He curls his fingers into the waistband of Jordan’s swim shorts and drags them down until they're bunched around his thighs, rubbing friction against the sensitive skin there. It only adds to how turned on he is, and he groans, pushing back against the feeling.

"So beautiful," Virgil whispers, smoothing his palms over the curve of Jordan's arse. He pulls one hand back to land a sharp, stinging slap on the cheek and then kisses the spot softly, where there's bound to be a red mark in the shape of his hand. Jordan doesn't mind. It feels like ownership.

He spreads those big, long fingers over Jordan's bum and hooks his thumbs in the crease, pressing a soft kiss to the base of his spine before pulling the cheeks apart. He hums, and it sounds greedy. Jordan's even more turned on than before.

"All good?" He asks, but his mouth is already brushing sparks against Jordan’s skin when he speaks. He's so eager. Jordan has never felt so loved.

"I'm perfect," Jordan says, pressing his smile into his arm. Virgil hums and presses a kiss to his hole, fingertips digging in tighter for a second, and then he licks a thick stripe down the crease of his arse.

Jordan lets out a desperate little whimper and doesn’t even feel embarrassed by it. He’s too tired to feel anything but sparks of pleasure, so he lets himself enjoy it, takes it and demands more. He knows Virgil will gladly give him whatever he asks for.

“Gorgeous boy,” Virgil whispers, voice low and rough. He stiffens his tongue and pushes it into Jordan’s hole, licking in long, firm strokes. It’s all wet heat and the sensation of Virgil’s stubble, burning marks into the most sensitive part of his skin. He gasps, and pushes his hips back. Virgil doesn’t let go of him once.

His palms are hot on Jordan’s hips and he works his tongue in tiny little flickers that make him feel overly sensitized, but in the best way. His entire body is on fire, bones vibrating, and he’s so, _so_ glad that there’s nobody around their villa because he can’t stop himself from making tiny noises. 

At least Virgil seems to appreciate it.

He’s enthusiastic, always enthusiastic about it, and he fits a hand underneath Jordan’s body to wrap his fingers around his dick. He’s been hard since the moment Virgil touched him, so the grip is a welcome relief.

He pumps his fist twice and Jordan is already shaking, scrabbling to tangle their fingers together when Virgil puts his free hand next to his head. He needs something to hold onto, something to keep him grounded, especially when Virgil twists his wrist and flicks his thumb over the head.

“Shit, shit,” Jordan sighs, shifting restlessly. Virgil pulls away and presses a kiss to the cheek of his arse, gentle and chaste, but then he runs the blunt edge of his thumbnail over the slit of Jordan’s dick. “Love you. Love you - ah, fuck - so much.”

“Love you too baby,” Virgil whispers, kissing Jordan’s cheek again. He keeps moving his fist but it’s only when he drags his teeth over the muscle there that Jordan starts to feel that familiar tightening in his belly. “Come for me, J. Come for me.” 

That’s all it takes. The tightening turns into burning, white heat that he can’t ignore, and he pushes back into Virgil’s body desperately. His vision fades to black, and all he can hear is the sound of Virgil’s breathing and all he can feel is Virgil’s skin on his, and everything, _everything_ is Virgil.

He comes, waves of it rolling through his body and bringing him to the surface, and Virgil holds him the whole time.

He wouldn’t expect anything else.

.

"I hate hiking," Virgil grumbles. He's dragging ten steps behind, kicking at rocks and wiping his forehead every ten minutes. That's one way to get him sweating. 

"Then why did you agree to come?" Jordan asks mockingly. He knows why, but it doesn't hurt to hear Virgil admit it.

"You know why," Virgil says threateningly. He catches up with Jordan and stands by his side, so close his chest is brushing against the older man's shoulder. At least Jordan knows now that he can catch up if he wants to - he's just choosing to be a drama queen. "You asked when you were riding me, and that's not _fair_. I was emotionally compromised."

"Arme schat," Jordan says, reaching up and pinching Virgil's cheek. His hand gets slapped away but not shouted at, and that's probably because Virgil can't resist him speaking Dutch. It's his secret weapon, and he's not sure if Virgil has worked it out yet. "I'm sure you suffered greatly while I did all the work and got you off."

"Not fair," Virgil mutters, repeating his sentiments. He mostly leaves it though, and drags his feet as they take a few more steps up the mountain.

"Look, we'll get to the next checkpoint and then turn back, alright?" Jordan says, pointing it out on the map. He rolls his eyes when Virgil nods pathetically. "Mo is bringing the Kostas round for lunch tomorrow anyway. No point in subjecting the new boy to you being a whiny little baby."

"I'm not whiny," Virgil huffs. He doesn't move away though - instead, he tucks himself even closer to Jordan's side, until he's got no choice but to wrap an arm around Virgil's waist and pull him in close.

"You're whinier than every actual baby I know, schatje," Jordan says, but he's smiling the whole time. He squeezes tight on the spot that he knows tickles Virgil the most and manages to dodge the elbow that's aimed at his ribs. Instead, he stretches up to press a kiss to Virgil's cheek. "You know I love you."

He only says it because it always gets a response, no matter how hard Virgil tries not to say it back. He holds his breath, and waits...

"I love you too," Virgil grumbles.

Jordan isn't sure when they became quite so predictable, but he isn't complaining.

.

"What's for lunch?" Jordan asks, hooking his chin over Virgil’s shoulder. It’s a little bit uncomfortable, given the height difference, but it's nice all the same. He’s all warm and he smells nice. Jordan sneaks an arm around his waist, hand resting on his stomach, and kisses his neck. Their guests aren't here yet, so he's getting all the affection out of the way before they turn up.

"I'm just gonna do a barbecue - halal meat, of course," Virgil says, turning his head to press a kiss to Jordan's cheek. Jordan thinks he could watch him cook all day. Even seasoning meat makes his hands look obscene. "Can you do the salad or are you just going to drool over me all day?"

Jordan huffs and pulls away. 

"I will chop salad for your majesty," Jordan says. He doesn't get very far, though, because Virgil pulls him back in for a kiss. He wanders over to the fridge and piles all the food in his arms, closing the door again with his foot. Virgil has already got the chopping board out, placed so close on the counter that their elbows knock whenever they do anything, but the proximity is nice. If it was up to Jordan, they'd be attached at the hip at all times - not that he'll ever tell anyone that. "How are you feeling about Kostas coming? Are you nervous about telling him?"

"Nervous? No," Virgil says, but the way he's handling the chicken proves otherwise. "Apprehensive, maybe. I think Klopp would filter out the homophobes, but you never know, do you? Some people don't reveal it until it's too late. But - Kostas doesn't seem the type. I have faith, for now."

"Me too," Jordan breathes, pressing his arm against Virgil's. His heart is still pounding unpleasantly in his chest, but he trusts Virgil wholly. That has to count for something. "Me too. If you do - then so do I. I trust your judgement."

"And - even if shit does hit the fan," Virgil says, humming peacefully. He stretches over to press a kiss to the side of Jordan's head and nudges his nose against his temple gently. "We still have each other. I've still got you. Nothing could ever take you away from me. I'd fight till the end for you, Jordan." 

"You big lump," Jordan says, although his voice is thick and he has to lift his arm to wipe his eyes. He stares intently at the lettuce in front of him and tries not to cry at the stray thoughts of something happening to ruin what they've got. It's not ever going to happen, because he won't let it. He'd rather die than be without Virgil. They're meant for each other, and that's all there is to it. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I know," Virgil says, and his voice is just as rough. He clears his throat and then goes over to wash his hands, looking back over his shoulder at Jordan. "Are you done? We need to start taking everything outside."

"I'm done," Jordan says, and follows Virgil over to the sink to wash his hands. He stops on the way back and puts a hand on Virgil's chest, looking up at him with a tiny smile on his face, and then he gives up pretending and kisses him. "Love you. Like, so much it hurts. I'm not going anywhere, not even if you want me to. I'm yours now - no take backs."

"No take backs," Virgil repeats, linking his pinky finger with Jordan's tightly. He steals another kiss, smiling into it, and then pulls away with a pat to his bum. "Come on. The boys will be arriving soon."

.

Kostas is nice. Obviously Jordan knew he would be, otherwise Klopp wouldn't have sanctioned the transfer, but still. There's a difference between knowing policies and actually meeting a person.

He must have realised that there's something a little more than friendship between Virgil and Jordan too, because he hasn't said a word about it. Usually, there's a comment or two on the closeness of their friendship, but Kostas hadn't said anything. Jordan is just grateful that he doesn't have to stammer through any awkward explanations. Except…

Maybe he spoke too soon.

"I think it’s good how close the squad is, no?" Kostas says, looking between Jordan and Virgil and Mo. He's smiling, but it's that kind of nervous-put-on-a-brave-face-and-hope-for-the-best smile. Jordan pities him a little bit. "I mean, you two must be very close to be going on holidays like this. Mohamed told me you went to Portugal and Switzerland before here. Your friendship must be very solid."

He gestures vaguely at both Virgil and Jordan. 

Mo is the first to break the silence. He giggles, mouth hidden behind his hand, but Jordan can tell he's grinning wildly by his eyes. 

"That's not --" He starts, and then breaks off when Virgil kicks him gently under the table.

"We're, um," Jordan starts, then breaks off and glances up at Virgil. The younger man places a hand on his thigh - comforting, encouraging - so Jordan takes a deep breath and carries on. "We're a little more than friends, actually. We're -- together. You know, in a relationship."

"Oh… Oh!" Kostas says, flushing bright red. Jordan can't help but smile. "Of course you are. I'm sorry - I didn't want to assume… and I shouldn't have assumed either way. But you are very sweet together. I hope you continue to find happiness."

"You can tone it down now," Mo says, digging his elbow into Kostas' ribs. Kostas looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but at least it’s amusing.

Jordan's always expecting it to go wrong, so this one definitely went better than planned.

.

"D'you think it went alright?" Jordan asks, rolling into the warmth of Virgil's body. Mo and Kostas are long gone so they're having a lazy afternoon, sprawled out on one of the double sunbeds on the patio. Virgil ditches his phone and wraps an arm around Jordan's shoulders, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"You're such a worrier," Virgil says, brushing Jordan's cheek with the back of his fingers. "It was fine, Jord. To be honest, I don't think anyone’s ever wished us every happiness, so I'd say that's the most successful coming out we've ever had."

"I know," Jordan hums, pillowing his head on Virgil's bare chest. He brushes his fingers up and down his sternum, through the faint dusky hairs there. His skin is all warm and soft, and darker than normal. Jordan loves the way he glows in the sun. He looks ethereal. "I just hate the idea of anything coming in and ruining our happiness. I love this little bubble we've created for ourselves, you know? Nobody can hurt us in here."

"Don’t talk about bubbles," Virgil groans, throwing an arm across his eyes. "I can't get the image of the gaffer ranting about Boris Johnson out of my head."

Jordan stifles his giggles with his head buried in Virgil's neck. 

Okay - so maybe nothing has ruined their happiness.

Maybe nothing ever will.

.

“I love you,” Virgil whispers, burying his face in Jordan’s neck. His hands are hot on his stomach and his dick is pulsing where it’s inside him. “I love you so much, Jordan. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” 

Jordan gasps out a laugh. “Shut up, you,” he murmurs, but his cheeks are flushed bright red.

“No, I mean it,” Virgil says, pressing a kiss to Jordan’s jaw. He’s staying still even though it must be painful by now. “I love you so much. I’m never going to stop saying it.”

“Show me,” Jordan sighs, shifting restlessly. Virgil hums, low and right in his ear, and then wraps his fingers tight around Jordan’s hips. He lifts him until his dick is almost all the way out, and then hesitates. “Show me how much you love me.” 

Virgil does. He pulls Jordan all the way back down, fast and unrelenting, until the head of his cock is pressing against Jordan’s prostate and the older man is letting out a string of broken swear words. It feels good, like this, but Jordan wishes he could see Virgil’s face.

He can, sort of, but it’s not the same. His reflection in the window isn’t quite clear enough, but the light does catch across his knuckles. The sun’s setting over the mountains and casting shadows in pinks and purples across Virgil’s thighs when Jordan looks down, and he’s never quite felt anything like this.

“All of this, everything you can see out there,” Virgil whispers, not stopping his thrusts. He presses a chaste kiss to the warm spot of skin just below Jordan’s ear. “That’s all for you, baby. The whole world is yours. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Tears spring to Jordan’s eyes and he turns his head to brush his nose against Virgil’s. Nobody’s ever treated him like this – nobody’s ever cared enough. He’s got it now, though, and he’s never letting go. 

Virgil’s hand comes up to wrap around his throat with only incredibly gentle pressure, but enough that Jordan can feel it. More than anything, it’s safety. He feels so safe in Virgil’s hands. Nobody could ever look after him the way Virgil does. 

Every movement is slow, tender. Breathless noises and careful touches. Virgil’s fingers pressing hollow bruises and his thighs trembling under the splay of Jordan’s legs. Palm smudges on the glass windows, and breath fogging up the sunset.

“I love you,” Jordan says, feeling like he’s going to die happy, and then, only then, does he let go.

.

"Can we ask him to turn round?" Jordan whispers, staring at the partition between them and the driver like he wants it to burst into flames. He's grateful for the privacy, because that means he gets a blessed extra few minutes curled up to Virgil's side, but still. That’s besides the point.

"Don't you want to see the lads again?" Virgil asks, carding his fingers through Jordan's hair. He doesn't say anything about the fact his boyfriend has been replaced by a limpet, which Jordan thinks is very gracious of him. Virgil doesn't often miss the opportunity to take the piss. "Don't you miss training?" 

"Yeah, but I'd rather spend time with you," Jordan says. He curls his fingers into the folds of Virgil's t-shirt like he's holding on for dear life. "I just - don't want the holiday to end, that's all. It's never the same when we're with the lads." 

"Jordan, in a few years, we'll be spending so much time together that you'll be begging me to leave you alone," Virgil says. Jordan looks up and notices the sweet little smile on his face, bright eyes brimming with excitement and possibility. Jordan can't say that he doesn't feel the same when he thinks about your future. "You'll be desperate to be back with the boys when I've asked you the same question three times in two minutes because I wasn't listening. You'll wish you were back at Melwood when I'm bored and annoying you because I don't have Trent to bully. We'll have so much time together, J - we can take all the holidays we want, and they can last forever. That is a promise."

Jordan has to admit - he quite likes the sound of that.

 _Forever_.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @ [georginiwijnaldum](https://georginiwijnaldum.tumblr.com/) xo


End file.
